


Rain and Fire; Darkness and Light

by HydraNoMago



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bromance, Chocobros - Freeform, Comfort, Fluff, Hurt, M/M, Oneshot, Parallels, Promptis - Freeform, implied Gladis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9208577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HydraNoMago/pseuds/HydraNoMago
Summary: He watches with intense icy eyes at the hungry flames that lick the air, absorbing more oxygen to create more combustions.The images flash through his head unbidden, like one of those unwanted slideshows his tutors used to show. He hears the screams of people, watches hopelessly as the enemy marches into the grounds, the collapse of the age old buildings which he lived in. He smells something putrid, something metallic. It is then that he sees red, the sea of red which tasted rusty in his own mouth. He cannot pick up sounds too well.A fic on Promptis romance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for ffxvweek on tumblr, but exams.

He watches with intense icy eyes at the hungry flames that lick the air, absorbing more oxygen to create more combustions. What was it that he had learnt in his chemistry classes all those years ago? That without the seemingly simple element of oxygen, the beast known as fire can never be produced naturally. Of course, magic could easily compensate for that.

 

So he slowly reaches out to cradle the flame of the candle in his palm, watching in mild fascination that when he had his fireproof magic equipped, the flame did not burn him at all. Instead, it warmed his hand in a gentle caress. He holds it above the flame, around it, passes through it quickly. The orange flame stays strong, illuminating the dark room in its glow. In one swift movement, he catches the ball of fire, now located in the middle of his palm instead of the wick of the white candle.

 

It was normal of them to camp out in the woods, as to save money and to not be easily recognised. However, this time they had chosen a quaint little inn just off the road, reason being this particular area was notorious for its vicious beasts. Ignis and Gladio had long gone off to sleep, he could hear the snores from the elder emitted softly through the thick blankets. Honestly, he wonders how his advisor puts up with it every single night. (He suspects the bespectacled man must have his own ear plugs at the ready.) In the other bed there lay his best friend Prompto who was frolicking in dreamland. He sees the top of his head poking out of the blanket, fluffy golden locks reminding him of a chocobo.

 

His eyes stare out the window, watching silently at the fat raindrops hitting the earth. At his current position near said window, he felt a little lonely. The candle on the table opposite him stands there, as empty as his chest felt. He turns the still burning flame over in his palm, transferring it from one hand to the other, hoping that it will bring him some kind of solace from the confines of his own mind.

 

The rain pelts a little harder on the tiled rooftop, the freezing drops gathering on the edge before becoming too heavy, eventually returning to the ground. They form a curtain at his window, a veil so delicate. Outside the sky is dark, but with the aid of the heat in his palm, he can see everything. And he _feels_ , rather than sees, those old shadows creeping up to him.

 

The images flash through his head unbidden, like one of those unwanted slideshows his tutors used to show. He hears the screams of people, watches hopelessly as the enemy marches into the grounds, the collapse of the age old buildings which he lived in. He smells something putrid, something metallic. It is then that he sees red, the sea of red which tasted rusty in his own mouth. He cannot pick up sounds too well. His ears have been ringing since the explosions, from which one he doesn't know, and his whole body ached. He tries to push himself off the ground, but it hurts, it hurts, _it hurts_. He thinks he must have broken a bone, or two in this whole ordeal. Dust from the stampede and rubble is everywhere, painting the whole scene in a dirty brown. His own breathing is shallow, and he knows he has to _get up, come on get up_ before something worse happens.

 

Shadow's long fingers curl around his ankle, anchoring him to their will. They slide up his legs, slip around his torso in a tight hold, reaches his neck. He can feel them, the cold slimy wisps coiled around his neck, pressing inwards. In his mind's eye, he sees his father. The man whom he had looked up to ever since a young age, his corpse at the foot of the throne, eyes as dead as a fish's. No longer would he be able to speak with him in this world ever again. Then, there was a hideous scream. He knows there was one, knows that it probably is his own. And the world spins.

 

“Noct? Hey, Noct!” He blinks his eyes furiously, coming into focus again. His whole vision is filled with the worried face of his best friend. His brows were scrunched and his eyes were searching. “Noct, you okay?” Prompto whispers.

 

He inclines his head carefully, not trusting his voice anytime soon. Prompto clutches his hand tighter, and he notices that his whole body is drenched with a thin layer of sweat even though it was supposed to be cold outside. In his other palm he still cradles the flame, amazed he has yet to burn himself to a crisp. He can hear the violent pounding of his own blood in his ears, sees the quiver of the flame from his trembling hands.

 

Contrary to popular belief, Prompto isn't as dull as he is usually portrayed by his friends to be, so it is no surprise when he catches the bob of Noctis' adam's apple, the slightly panicked look in his eyes and the sudden drop in body temperature. _It must be the hauntings again..._ He runs a hand soothingly down Noctis' back, hoping to ease some of the knots formed there. “Noct, you can tell me anything, you know that right?” He whispers softly. “You can tell me.”

 

The brunet nods, hanging his head while he took deep inhalations of air to try and even out his breathing rhythm. “Yeah, I know” he speaks lowly back, afraid to wake the other two from their deep slumber. The four of them hadn't really had a good night's sleep in a long time, considering the majority of their time spent on the run, so he at least wants to make sure they have this small mercy. “Thanks Prom, I'm fine.” Speaking of which, Prompto should be asleep, not awake... His eye bags were already beginning to show. “You can go back to sleep now.”

 

At this Prompto shakes his head, offering a small smile in return. “Me? Go to sleep and leave you like this?” He rubs the other's hair affectionately before placing his own forehead against Noctis'. “Say what you want, but I'm not going anywhere.” He brings their joined hands up to their chests. “I'm here Noct, whatever you need.”

 

The room is suddenly plunged into darkness as Noctis extinguishes the bright flame in his hand and links it with the blond's free one, mirroring the positions so that they had both adjoined hands together in front of them. He closes his eyes, listening closely to the other's breathing pattern and mimicking it. Gradually his own breathing returned to normal, his heart was starting to calm down. His head had cleared up considerably, the lock is turned with the key and the images are once again suppressed at the back of his mind. He huffs a sigh of relief? At least that's what he thinks the emotion is.

 

Prompto smiles at him in the dark, and he could feel the grin threatening to spill onto his own face. “So,” begins the blond in his stage whisper. “wanna go out and play in the rain?” He automatically gives him the look, one which he had perfected from years of being with Ignis, the master. He knows it's too dark to see, just as he knows his best friend doesn't need visual abilities to interpret what he was thinking. “Oh come on Noct,” he whines softly. “it'll be fun!”

 

As usual he finds himself giving in too easily to the blond's requests. He lets himself be dragged out stealthily (as stealthy as two boys who are sneaking out can be) by the hand, shivering as a blast of cold hit him out of the blue once the door cracked open. The sky was still pouring bucketfuls of water, but it was also starting to become bright. Strips of sunlight had streaked themselves across the canvas, turning the world monochrome.

 

Prompto tugs at him insistently until they are both away from the safety of the roof, standing out in the harsh rain. The blond laughs, his voice tinkling through the excessively damp air as he tries to keep his bangs from falling into his eyes. The brunet on the other hand, closes his eyes and relishes in the feel of raindrops pattering against his skin, as if it could wash away all the pain of yesterday.

 

He is splashed with a mixture of water and sludge at the side of his head. Prompto, the ever cheeky one was crouching near a wide puddle, scooping up the gathered droplets in his cupped hands. “What?” he simply questions when Noctis sends him a glare. “It's not like you're not wet already!” Noctis grits his teeth and pulls his lips into a slightly maniacal smile. “Oh, is that so?” He stalks over to the blond, like a tiger and it's prey. He smiles, “Then I could say the same thing to you, couldn't I?”

 

Prompto sweat drops underneath his friend's withering gaze and curls into himself. He hadn't even had enough time for a retort before Noctis had tackled him onto the ground, scooping the muddy puddle water and smudging it in his golden locks. “Gah! Dude, my hair!” he yells. “It's hell to wash all that shit off!”

 

“Serves you right, you idiot!” shouts the prince back. “Who was the one who started splashing in the first place?” He pins the other down with his body weight, trying to contain all the squirming happening underneath him.

 

In all honesty, Noctis wasn't as light as a feather. Nor was he a fairy princess. “Let me go! I give! I give!” moans Prompto as he holds up a hand in sign of defeat. “Get off me you lug!” What an embarrassing picture they made, of two adults wrestling like children.

 

Noctis grins at the predicament the blond has gotten himself into. “Nope, I'm not moving.” He hears a pitiful whine from the other's lips, puppy eyes and pout put on full display. “Don't you even dare Prom. I ain't moving until... Hmm, let's see...”

 

“Until?” Prompto asks eagerly. Of course he was more than happy to get Noctis off his midriff when his back was soaked with the dampness of the soil. Not to mention the fact that he really needed to wash his hair before the mud hardened. He did not want to deal with crusted strands for the next few days and Gladio's constant teasing.

 

Noctis widens his grin like a cheshire cat. “Oh, I don't know... Until you give me a kiss maybe?” As expected, the blond had a nice shade of pink tinted on his cheeks after that statement, and the beginnings of a splutter. He loves watching Prompto become embarrassed, mostly because it was almost impossible make the outgoing blond blush wildly. He was too carefree about a lot of things. It was a dead end for the other, designed to make him squirm and cringe even more.

 

So it was to his utmost surprise when Prompto grabbed his jacket to yank him down and connect their lips without an ounce of hesitance. It was his turn to blush, the pounding of his heart returning full force, but it was totally different from the earlier sense of dread. This one made his the butterflies in his stomach flutter uncontrollably. His eyes are wide, and he places the back of his hand across his lips.

 

“Fine,” says the blushing blond in a voice full of determination. They are still close together, a hair's breadth away. For a moment, the sound of the world was cancelled, leaving nothingness except their own voices. “Whatever you are physically Noct, strong or weak, ill or healthy - all those things matter less than what your heart contains.” He cards his fingers into dark locks, holding that icy gaze with his own baby blues. “If you have the soul of a warrior, you are a warrior. All those other things, they are the glass that contains the lamp, but _you_ are the light inside.” He smiles lightly at his frozen friend. “Your kingdom awaits you, my prince.”

 

He swallows thickly, already stubborn tears were pricking the edges of his eyes. He hoped the rain would conceal some of it. He eases off Prompto, but places his forehead on top of his as they did earlier, joining a hand with his. “When were you ever this good with words?” shakily he asks.

 

That elicits a chuckle from the blond, fingers massaging the brunet's scalp lightly. “Ever since Ignis made me read poetry. I think.” He leans upwards to give Noctis a peck on the nose. “I still don't like it though.”

 

As their laughter reverberates through the rainy air of dawn, two figures stand in the doorway. “I'm not cleaning up their mess when they get back.” states Ignis clearly as he sips coffee from a quaint porcelain cup. “They can wash their own clothes.”

 

“Aww Iggy, that's kinda mean.” says Gladio as he tucks into a giant blueberry muffin he nicked from the breakfast table. “It's young love, give them some leeway.”

 

The bespectacled man clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth loudly. “I don't particularly care if it's young love or plain stupidity, but if they trek mud into the car, you're cleaning it up.” He turns on his heel to replace the empty cup with a new one. “Oh, and no carnivorous meals for a week.”

 

At this, Gladio immediately swallows his chunk of muffin through the risk of being choked. “Yes dear.”

 


End file.
